


Raising the Long-Dead King

by The Gray Ghost (The_Gray_Ghost)



Category: Merlin (TV), Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood Magic, Dark Magic, Druids, Good Morgana (Merlin), Heartbreaking, I cried writing this, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Magic, Major character death - Freeform, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Merlin's Neckerchief (Merlin), Morgana is a morally gray character, Paganism, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Sad Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Wiccan - Freeform, color symbolism, druid magic, i really needed to get this out there, love is hard guys, merlin and gwen were best friends, merthur if you squint, please don't read if this will upset you, reach out if you need help, read the tags, ritual suicide, sorry for potentially ruining your day, you'll pry my historically accurate witchcraft from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29055699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Gray_Ghost/pseuds/The%20Gray%20Ghost
Summary: TW: SUICIDEPlease please please read the tags.Merlin knows the laws of magic. Arthur must return. An eye for an eye.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Raising the Long-Dead King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheAsexualofSpades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/gifts).



Merlin sighed as he dismounted. He took a moment with his horse, stroking her nose and checking that the saddlebags were still tightly closed, before patting her rump lightly and setting off. He knew he had to get far enough away that his mare wouldn't be startled at the flash of light. He wanted her to get tired and eventually wander home. He slowly pulled his kerchief off and tied it around his head, holding his shaggy hair out of his face. He desperately needed to cut it, but he just didn't see the point.  
Finally, he approached the low tree stump. It stood just under a foot tall but was so wide that Merlin couldn't reach the other side while sitting down. Merlin allowed himself a tired chuckle as he saw the centuries of Druid carvings dug into the altar. As he reached the stump and settled himself on the grass, knees tucked under him, he let his mind wander to the reason for all of this.  
Arthur. Sweet, brave, noble Arthur. Merlin knew it was his destiny to protect Arthur, and one day return him to the throne, but it had been many years since he had sent his lovely Arthur out across the lake.  
He believed that now was the time the prophecy spoke of.  
Arthur needed to come back.  
Merlin pulled ingredients out of his bag slowly, setting each one on the altar in order. First, an altar cloth. The front of one of Arthur's tunics, embroidered by Gwen after the Final Battle. It was her last gift to him before he left Camelot. He touched the golden dragon fondly, and in his mind, he heard the roar of Kilgarah, all those ages ago. Next was a beeswax candle. He held it to his nose and breathed in deeply, remembering how strange it had been to go from the acrid smell of tallow candles to the sweetness of the beeswax tapers in the castle. In short succession, he pulled out a small iron cauldron, a delicate silver athame, and his own crystal from the caves of Neotid. As he bustled and fussed over the altar, the realization of what he was about to do hit him fully in the chest. He knew the rules of magic. An eye for an eye, a son for a son. This was the only way. He had tried everything. He bent over and let his face rest against the soft, worn blue cloth. The smell of Arthur was long gone, replaced by the smell of travel and smoke and years' worth of desperate attempts to reach his king. Merlin steadied himself and pulled out the final part of the ritual from his bag. A prepared potion. He swirled it slowly, staring at the inky depths. He thought of the warmth of Gwen’s rich brown eyes, the cool elegance of Morgana’s black hair, the harsh darkness of Arthur’s blood as it ran over his hands. A tear came to his eye and he swallowed thickly, before opening his mouth to perform the ritual.  
First, a slow, somber chant, which gradually stirred into a heart-wrenching song. Merlin felt more tears slip down his face as the words grew louder and louder. Finally, the song ended, and with a quiet pop, Merlin uncorked the bottle, closed his eyes, and drank the potion. He felt the iciness of the potion as it slipped down his throat, slithering like a living creature. Before the potion could take full effect, he took the silver knife and said a prayer. His eyes opened for a brief moment, and he could swear he saw the figure of Arthur, his Arthur, the once and future king, before he closed them again and plunged the athame into his chest. He gasped, feeling the cold of the potion sweep over his whole body, a cold like he had never felt before. He felt as if he had slipped backward into an icy lake, and was instantly pulled to the bottom. All the air was forced out of his lungs, and as he heard his final breath rasp, he felt two warm, steady hands grab him and pull him into their arms. Arthur was here.  
The once and future king had returned.


End file.
